


Lyrium Memory

by luciferesque



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 19:25:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17668634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luciferesque/pseuds/luciferesque





	Lyrium Memory

Orana’s presence had done something to Fenris, despite Lyra handing the girl her freedom. It was if he was more fretful, more pensive in a way that went beyond the norm. He avoided the estate as if something contagious lived there and all could see it, even Anders.

Lyra was uncertain of how to handle the issue. The last time he avoided her house, it took years for him to come back; now he was at it again, and she had no idea why. Had she done something wrong? Broken some unknown protocol when setting Orana free? Lyra tried asking the girl between her duties, but Orana seemed disinclined to discuss Fenris in general, deeming the subject “impolite”.

He backed out of their contracts around the city, stopped coming to the Hanged Man. He was as a ghost to them, to her, and Lyra began to unravel.

It sent her spiraling; she couldn’t handle being ignored by those closest to her, a fault she had yet to curb as long as she’d had it. Lyra started drinking more, roaming the alleyways at night, looking for gangs to take her depression out on. Even slurring drunk, she still wondered: What had she done?

It was raining when she found her way to Danarius’ manor, now Fenris’ crumbling squat-house, and dark but for the occasional lightning in the distance. She slugged the rum she’d been carrying with her and starting pounding on the large, bronze doors. Lyra could hear the echo of her beating fist as it mingled with the thunder, and the thought of that somehow made it worse. She began kicking at the base of the door this time, her sabatons denting the frame as tears of anger sprung to her eyes.

“Why won’t you let me in?” she croaked, sliding down the frame to sit pitifully against the door. What she begged had a dual meaning, it always did, and soon the panic began to set in. _What if he never answered. What if he left the city?_

_What if he left?_

Lyra was inconsolable, so much so, that when the door creaked open, she nearly fell through in shock.

“Hawke… what are you–” Fenris asked, but stopped short, watching her climb from the ground to stand unsteadily on two feet.

He had a candelabra in hand, and it lit the doorway in a gentle haze of light. Lyra was soaked to the bone now, but made no move to come in. She simply looked on plaintively, observing how Fenris’ cheeks had hollowed, how his hair and clothes were just as disheveled as she.

There was a little puff of breath, a terse sigh that broke the silence, before Fenris moved from the door, pushing it open to allow passage.

“Come in from the rain, at least,” he said gruffly, fingers and toes tensing reflexively.

Lyra sniffled harshly, but took his invitation and brushed by, sopping wet.

They settled upstairs before the fire, Fenris on a moth-worn sofa and Lyra on a crate opposite him. He said nothing at first, but as the minutes ticked by, she could see his posture becoming wound ever more tightly. Finally, he spoke.

“Danarius was a vicious man. Even amongst the slave-owners, he had a reputation for wanton cruelty that preceded him and even the most obedient slave saw the whip from time to time, sometimes just for entertainment’s sake.”

His voice was a dull echo that pattered against the rain, and Lyra listened, confused though she was.

Fenris stared down at his hands, flexing them inside his gauntlets.

“You know what I’ve given up, Lyra. You know what I’ve forgotten. But you have no idea the things I _remember_.”

He reached forward, pulling the bottle out of Lyra’s fingers and swallowed deeply.

“When Danarius completed his project, these lyrium veins,” Fenris scoffed as he rolled his shoulders,“ he used me in every way a body could be used. And when he was certain I was sufficiently broken, I became the whip.”

Lyra drew her knees up, watching as Fenris took another deep drink before passing the bottle back to her.

“He used me to punish slaves and enemies alike; a power I had never wielded before. A power I didn’t understand.”

He stood then, turning away from Lyra to face the fire.

“Orana… her mother was Hadriana’s favorite slave. And when Hadriana failed to impress her mentor, he took it upon himself to have her punished.”

“ _Little wolf_ , he told me, _show Hadriana what happens when my expectations are not met_. And Lyra,” Fenris gritted out, fists clenched against the mantle. “I _did_. I took her heart in my hands and I squeezed until the light left her eyes.”

“Is… is that why you were so shaken when Orana showed up?” Lyra asked, standing then.

Fenris let out a bark of bitter laughter.

“Is it that obvious?”

“But Fenris, I don’t think Orana knows. She certainly hasn’t implied anything to me,” Lyra began.

“Void take what she knows! _I_ know,” Fenris hissed, turning on heel to face her.

“ _I know_ and I must do her the honor of never forgetting.”


End file.
